


dead end

by midnightweeds



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - America, Alternate Universe - Gang World, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Developing Relationship, Drugs, F/M, Fluff, Guns, Kissing, Racism, Romance, Threats
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:35:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26026582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightweeds/pseuds/midnightweeds
Summary: The first time had been an accident.It was just…there was a great deal of excitement and adrenaline and,really,her finger slipped. Just like that. It’d slipped and suddenly there was so much fucking blood-It’d been an accident. It’d been preparation. A necessity. In retrospect, at least.Shethinks..Hermione falls for bad-boy Scabior.
Relationships: Antonin Dolohov/Hermione Granger
Kudos: 30





	dead end

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted on my tumblr: midnightmilkteas

_ooo_

The first time had been an accident.

It was just…there was a great deal of excitement and adrenaline and, _really_ , her finger slipped. Just like that. It’d slipped and suddenly there was so much fucking blood-

It’d been an accident. It’d been preparation. A necessity. In retrospect, at least.

She _thinks._

* * *

_iii_

Hermione meets him at a gas station.

She’d been arguing with the attendant about the change she was due -$13.50- and he was huffing about ‘fucking Americans’ and how he was going to be late. She hadn’t really looked at him, aside from the tight smile she’d offered when he filled the space behind her, foot tapping the ground impatiently as they waited for some freak in a muddy, washed-out Confederate flag shirt to count his change out for a pack of cigarillos.

“You know how much it takes to fill up your tank. Why would you give me more? I think you’re trying to _rob_ me.”

“For thirt _een_ dollars, ma'am? You’re mental! _Please_ just…if you don’t believe me or your machine there, come and look at the pump.”

“I’m going to call the cops! I’m going to call the police you- you dirty-”

“Finish the sentence,” he said, his arm extending over Hermione’s shoulder, a gun in his hand. “I fucking dare you.” He clicked it, thumb sliding back smoothly and expertly and-

For what it was worth, Hermione didn’t flinch. She didn’t even blink. She did, however, step slightly away from him, her big, brown eyes glancing at his face for not nearly as long as she looked at his gun.

Her heart was racing, mouth dry and stomach a hollow pit attempting to swallow her whole. She couldn’t make sense of who he was or what he was doing or _why_.

“I _fucking_ dare you,” he told the attendant.

She shook her head, fumbling with the cash register. It was then that Hermione realized she needed to leave. Quickly. Because they weren’t exactly robbing her, but there _was_ a gun being pointed and- and they weren’t even _they_ ; she didn’t even know him. She didn’t even _know_ him.

She swallowed thickly, painfully aware of every inch of her body and _his_ , for whatever unholy reason.

He was still talking, irrationally angry about “back-country incest-loving racist imbeciles,” and she felt like less like she left and more like she escaped the gas station, a grin on her face and his smile –the one he’d offered her when she looked back at him through the finger-stained glass door- etched into her memory.

* * *

_iii_

“It was insane,” she told Harry when she finally got to his aunt’s house.

She and his uncle were away for the weekend, and he wanted to get all of his stuff out before they returned.

“Maybe don’t um- maybe just get gas in the city in the future?”

“Because I come out here so often,” she commented, picking up a box of haphazardly packed clothes. “And, anyway, it isn’t like we haven’t-”

“ _Still_ , Hermione,” Harry cut in irritably. “That sounds dangerous.”

She agreed, albeit hesitantly.

It hadn’t felt all that dangerous at all.

* * *

_iii_

“Antonin,” he told her, a month later, offering his hand.

Hermione stared at him a second too long, her eyes wide and surprised and heart racing in her chest. “Antonin,” she repeated, smiling when he kissed the back of her hand. “Thanks, by the way.”

He smiled softly, eyes smoothing all over her face as he continued to hold her hand. “I got your money actually.”

She laughed, oddly delighted when he pulled $13.50 from his wallet. “Were you stalking me, Antonin?”

His eyes, dark and inviting, sparkled. “I was hopeful.”

“Hermione,” she told him. “My name is Hermione.”

* * *

_iii_

She agreed to go to lunch with him.

And the next day they had dinner. Followed by drinks with his friends and the club at midnight and breakfast at three in the morning. As he drove her home, he listened to her complain about how overprotective everyone in her life was and rave about how much she’d enjoyed hanging out with him. When she almost fell out of his truck, he drew his arm around her waist, carrying her into her parent’s home and up to her room.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had a _boy_ in here,” she mumbled, blinking sleepily at him.

He sat down at her desk.

She was still drunk, standing in her doorway and squinting at him as she pulled her shirt over her head. He glimpsed her warm, honeyed skin and felt compelled to look away.

“Hermione,” he tugged his hand through his hair. “Get in bed. You’ll wake your parents.”

She frowned, throwing her shirt toward her hamper as she stumbled into her room, grabbing a tank top off her nightstand. “They’re in Italy.”

His brows rose as she closed the space between them. Her top was on inside out. “Are you Italian?”

She offered him a soft, pretty smile, brow creasing slightly. She was standing between his open legs, the smell of alcohol and smoke and pancakes clinging to the sickeningly sweet innocence that she’d started the night with. “Are you?”

He laughed, stopping himself from reacting to her touching his neck. “Ukrainian.”

“I’m not Italian,” she told him, fingers slipping into the hair at his nape as her thumb rubbed circles into the swell of his throat.

“You should still get some rest.”

“ _Really_?”

He smirked up at her, standing up and gently pushing her toward her bed. “You’re drunk. Get some rest. Call me when you wake up.”

She sat down on the edge of her bed and pulled her socks off. “Stay. I’ll make breakfast when we wake up.”

“That’s a bad idea, Hermione.”

She frowned. “You don’t like me.”

“I shouldn’t have…you’re home. Safe and sound. Get some rest and think about everything that’s happened. If you still want me to like you after that, I’ll come back.”

She was still frowning as her arms drew around his waist, face against his stomach. After a few minutes, he said, “Hermione?”

She hummed tiredly.

“Come on. Take your jeans off. Lay down.”

“Stay,” she requested.

“It’s a bad idea. You won’t feel the same when you wake up.”

“Stay,” she said again.

He did.

* * *

_iii_

Antonin was bad news. Really bad news.

She realized it while she was sitting in a pizza parlor with Harry and Ron and Seamus and Dean, and it felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped on her because, well, sure he’d told her as much, but she’d been _out_ with him. His hands were soft when they held hers, warm and tender against her arms and face, and comforting around her body. He took her to museums and for milkshakes and recited Russian poetry when she couldn’t sleep.

She’d ignored the gun he kept in the middle console of his F-150, different from the one he’d used to threaten the attendant that first day they’d seen each other; and she’d overlooked the cocaine he’d hidden under his seat one evening they’d ran into each other at the club and he’d decided he was taking her home.

It was only when he showed up at the pizzeria –of _all_ the fucking pizzeria’s he could have stumbled into at one in the morning- with two of the friends she’d met that first night and three, too pretty girls that she was forced out of her fake-world and into reality.

She’d been hiding him from her friends.

Seamus coughed and said, “ _Fuck_ ,” eyeing the disgustingly cool group. “That’s my dealer.”

Hermione was mortified, hiding behind her too big slice of pizza as Dean waved Scabior over and proceeded to buy five THC pills and some acid as though it was a normal thing to do. Ron looked uncomfortable, as though he’d suddenly sobered up, before chugging his beer and pouring himself another pint. Harry watched in amusement, leaning over her to grab the tabs from Seamus and observe them curiously.

“How the fuck do you take these?” He asked.

Scabior and Seamus laughed, Scabior’s eyes seeming to crawl over her.

Ron chugged his pint and Hermione dropped her pizza, pouring him another before lifting the pitcher to her mouth and following his lead. She ignored Antonin’s gaze until she felt her phone buzz in her pocket.

 **OVERPROTECTIVE HUH?** She only blinked at her screen.

* * *

_iii_

Hermione folded her arms over her chest, watching as Antonin paced back and forth in her kitchen. When he finally turned to look at her, she turned her glass of orange juice on the island-top for lack of anything better to do. Swallowing, she glanced up to see that he was only staring, face expressionless.

“I didn’t ignore you on purpose.”

“I know,” he told her, seeming to deflate slightly. “I know you didn’t, Hermione. You’re too sweet for that.”

She frowned, not sure if he was baiting her or not. “I didn’t know D and Shaym were going to go and buy fucking acid from Scabior. I didn’t even know they knew him. You saw me. I got out of there as soon as possible, Dolo.”

“How can you escape your friends and enjoy me?”

Her brows rose. “I…Antonin.” Hermione swallowed. “I don’t know. I feel safe with you.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“You don’t think I’ve figured that out? You don’t think I _know_ that? I can't _help_ it. I can’t fucking help that you…I don’t know. You make me feel safe, free, whole. Like the whole world is right there waiting for me to dec-”

She hadn’t realized he was rounding the island until he took her face in his hands and kissed her, his mouth moving against hers slowly. Then he pulled away, his forehead pressed against hers, thumbs smoothing back and forth over her jaw.

“I’m going to keep you,” he told her, voice low and eyes closed.

Hermione drew her arms around his waist and pulled him closer to her.

“Safe, free, whole. For as long as you let me.” He pressed a chaste kiss to her lips. “I’m going to keep you.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!   
>  xo, weeds  
> 
> 
> (this is a part of me moving all my fics to ao3  
> i currently only write for haikyuu and bnha)


End file.
